The Renegade and Alchemist
by more-than-words
Summary: In which there is a covert meeting at a pub, an unexpected bottle of champagne and an even less expected request that could potentially have massive consequences...
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I don't own Spooks and any and all plot in this story is a load of nonsense, largely made up as I go along…**

**Hello! Work is stressing me out, so naturally that means I wrote fic. I'm not sure it's very good. I'm trying to do something with an actual plot, but I'm not entirely sure how long it's going to last before I give in and go back to random fluff… Would love to know if this is worth continuing or if it's just as bad as I fear it might be, so any thoughts either way would be appreciated! Cheers :)**

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><p><strong>Chapter 1 - Moët &amp; Chandon<strong>

He called her out of the blue one day and asked her to dinner at a pub near her house. "Seven o'clock," he said, casually, as though it was a normal occurrence for them to meet in such a way. "Don't be late."

He hung up the phone before she could even agree to the time, let alone question him to find out how it was that he was phoning her – as far as she knew, he wasn't meant to be in touch with any of them while the enquiry was still going on. But then, she supposed, when it came to 'meant to', how likely was it that Harry Pearce was going to play by the rules?

It didn't occur to her not to meet him. Her curiosity and her inner masochist meant that she was always going to go, whatever his reasoning for the invitation. The fact she hadn't seen him for eleven weeks and had been missing him only served to make the almost definite absolutely inevitable.

Harry was already at _The Renegade and Alchemist_ when Ruth arrived, sitting at a corner table with a champagne bucket in front of him and a slightly nervous look on his face. He stood up when he saw her, jostling the table slightly.

He looked just the same. She didn't know why, but she'd been expecting him to be changed somehow. She'd thought he might have lost weight or be completely exhausted or otherwise altered. Maybe he was. Maybe he was concealing it, but the smile he gave her as she approached the table was certainly genuine enough. She was also a little surprised that he was alone; she'd been half-expecting some Internal Affairs minders to be close by, but she'd seen no one, outside or in.

Her footsteps sounded very loud as she crossed the floor of the still-quiet pub. The floorboards felt slightly tacky underfoot and she could smell the remnants of smoke, leftover from back when cigarettes were still allowed in public places and smoke had filled the air, permeating the whole building. It was hardly a classy establishment, but she thought that made it somehow appropriate for their meeting.

"Moët and Chandon," she said in place of a greeting as she drew level with the table and looked at the champagne that was propped, uncorked, in the bucket of ice. "I didn't even know they sold that here. What's the occasion?"

"Does there need to be one?"

"I suppose not." She sat down in the chair he gestured her to and then waited while he sat back down opposite her and busied himself with pouring the drinks into two flutes that she'd bet any money weren't made of crystal. Not in this pub.

It was weird, being with Harry like this after so long of not being with him in any way at all. She thought she should say something to acknowledge the significance of it, but it was so far all so straightforward, she didn't want to jinx it.

He passed her a glass, her fingers brushing over his as she took it. She caught his gaze properly for the first time since arriving and was oddly pleased to see the familiar, caring heat there. "Cheers," he said, chinking his glass against her own.

It made a dull noise – definitely not crystal, but that couldn't possibly be less important. "Cheers." She took a sip of the champagne and felt the sharp sting of the bubbles as it slid down her throat.

"How have you been?" Harry asked her when the rituals of tasting the drink had been done away with.

She nodded. "Okay." She knew he'd be able to read a lot into that one word. "And you?"

"Yes," he agreed. "Okay." But not great. "Are you hungry?" Harry picked up a cardboard menu and passed it over to her, seemingly back to the little normalcies of going for a meal with a friend.

It took them five minutes to choose the food and order it at the bar, by which time Ruth was starting to get a little bit impatient. She wanted to ask Harry why they were really here, but he seemed to be doing things very deliberately. She hoped he'd get to it soon.

He seemed to be reading her mind. "I invited you here for a reason," he said, as though it had only just occurred to him she might appreciate an explanation. "Two reasons."

She couldn't hold it in any longer. "What are the reasons?"

"One is that I need to ask you something."

"Ask me what?" A small part of her instantly began to wonder whether he had bought her here to make another proposal of marriage. That would certainly explain the champagne, as well as the fact he was wearing a full suit despite him currently being on suspension. She wondered what she'd say in response. Something was telling her that it wouldn't be 'no', even if she couldn't quite see it being 'yes', either. Something else was telling her that wasn't the question he had in mind. She pushed the errant thoughts from her mind and shut the door on them, firmly.

Harry shook his head. "That can wait until after we've eaten. The other reason…" He trailed off, cleared his throat, drank a mouthful of champagne. He looked like he was preparing himself for something. In the end, he said it simply, softly, looking her straight in the eye with nerves and sincerity warring in his gaze. "The other reason is that I wanted to see you. I've missed you."

It was out of her mouth before she could stop it. "I've missed you too, Harry."

"I hope you won't judge me harshly if I say I'm glad."

Ruth was saved from having to answer by the arrival of the food. She watched as the waiter put down their plates in front of them and smiled at him in thanks. She reached for her knife and fork and looked up to find Harry watching her intently. The depth of feeling in his eyes made her blush, but she didn't look away.

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><p>He wanted to touch her. He wondered if she'd push him off if he reached out and put a hand on her arm. He was almost brave enough to try, but a small part of him niggled that this wasn't just a social occasion; he was also here on business. Just the thought of that part of the evening, still to come, was enough to have him reaching for his champagne once more.<p>

He drank a few mouthfuls, then turned back to his steak and ale pie, using the distraction of eating to wonder how he might broach the subject. He doubted she was going to be thrilled when he asked her what he'd bought her here to ask her. He also knew she'd have lots of questions, most of which he wouldn't be able to answer. Whether or not she trusted him enough to let it go was something that had been plaguing him ever since it became clear that he'd need to bring her into the whole sorry mess in which he was currently living, but he couldn't think about that anymore. He had to assume that it would go well, that she'd agree to what he suggested.

The alternative was trying to do it all on his own, and he wasn't entirely sure that he could.

Harry wondered if the champagne had been too much. She'd obviously been bemused by it, the incongruity of Moët and Chandon in the establishment he'd chosen.

She'd also said that she'd missed him. The speed and intonation of her response to his confession had told him that it was the truth. The look in her eyes had suggested something of the extent of her feeling. And, while he did feel a bit bad about it, he really was glad that she'd been missing him, too. It meant that, maybe, with a bit of luck, they could still make it together. He certainly wasn't about to give up on them, for all sorts of reasons.

Oh, bugger it. He put down his fork and reached out to put his hand on hers. She looked up from her risotto, surprised. He smiled at her. "I'm glad you came, Ruth."

She returned the smile, then turned her hand in his and squeezed his fingers. "Well, it didn't sound like I had much of a choice." She was still smiling when she said it, so she clearly wasn't too annoyed about it.

"Yes, I suppose I was a bit presumptuous." That was nothing new. "But I really had to see you."

Ruth looked a bit undecided at that one, like she wasn't sure whether he was saying he had to see her just for the sake of seeing her, or if it was for whatever other reason he'd asked her to meet him. Truth be told, he wasn't entirely sure what he meant, either. He just brushed his fingers over the back of her hand and turned back to his food, feeling the need for a little more fortification before he started on the business portion of the evening.

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><p>The business portion of the evening came far too soon.<p>

Ruth felt something in the atmosphere shift after the empty plates had been cleared away and they waited for the coffees that Harry had ordered. "Need a clear head for this," he'd mumbled and she'd known then that he was finally getting to the point of the whole thing.

He was clearly nervous about it and that fact was making her unsettled, too. It was amazing, really, just how easily she'd been able to settle into his company even when things had been so awkward between them in the weeks leading up to the Albany disaster. It was as though, away from work and all the tangles they got themselves into because of it, they were fine. Good, even. On their own, they worked.

Yet now Harry was clearly about to bring up something that she was fairly sure was going to be about work and the awkwardness was already making a reappearance. She was also fairly sure that she wasn't going to like whatever he came out with.

Their coffee arrived and Ruth wrapped her hands around the hot mug, needing something to hold onto; an anchor.

Harry leant towards her, glancing around the quiet pub before looking back at her with such intensity, she didn't know what to do with it.

"I need to ask you a favour," he said, so quietly she could hardly hear him.

"What is it?" She was surprised her voice was so steady, considering the way her nerves were beginning to jangle inside her.

He swallowed, looked away and then back. He opened his mouth and shut it again. He appeared to think for a minute. "Just… I'm trying to decide the best way to ask this."

"Just say it." She wanted to hold his hand, but under the circumstances, she wasn't entirely sure it would calm him.

"Right. Yes." Harry shuffled in his seat.

"Harry?"

"I need you to come on holiday with me."

Well. She hadn't been expecting _that._

He hadn't finished. "A holiday of sorts, anyway. And I need you to break a few laws, probably. Most likely, actually. But it's quite important and… I need you. Will you help me?"

She was fairly certain that if she clutched her coffee cup any tighter, it would shatter.

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><p><strong>Thanks for reading! If this first part isn't too much of a disaster, I'll post chapter two soon… just as soon as I figure out what's going to happen and actually, y'know, write it.<strong>

**:)**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: Still own nothing.**

**This has accidentally gone really plotty and, as such, I fear it's a little bit dull. If it is, I apologise. Oh, and before I forget, some S10 characters might be popping up in this, although they'll be spoilers in name only seeing as we know practically nothing about them and I'm making up the plot at random etc…**

**Hope this isn't too terrible! I'll try and bring the fluff back soon. Thanks for the lovely reviews on the previous chapter :)**

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><p><strong>Chapter Two – TFM Systems<strong>

_The following week…_

Ruth put the finishing touches on her report and flipped through it to make sure it all made sense. Satisfied, she kept the pages spread out on her desk so it would appear she was still working. The people currently employing her didn't need to know that it had only taken her two hours to finish a day's worth of work… and nor did they need to know what she planned on doing to fill the rest of the day.

She was technically only a visitor to the large building set in the Surrey countryside, there for two days to complete a vital bit of translation and write a report on the aerospace firm's business ventures in China with only limited access to the company's intranet, but a brief meeting first thing that morning had provided her with everything she needed to get inside the security systems. She just had to make sure she was quiet about it and didn't leave any cyber footprints.

While she worked, her conversation in the pub with Harry played over and over in the back of her mind. She still hadn't decided how angry to be with him, or even whether she should be angry at all – after all, she had agreed to this. She could have said no.

"_I've been infiltrating a company," he said over coffee and sticky toffee pudding, as though it was a perfectly normal thing to do._

"_You've been on suspension," she countered, not convinced by his claims, "for treason, I might add."_

_He smiled, not even a hint of regret in the expression. "Yes, I know. A deal was struck early on, though and I've been working on it ever since. Quietly, of course. It's all a bit hush-hush."_

"_But the enquiry is still going on."_

"_Yes, it is." It didn't seem like he was going to elaborate._

"_I only testified there last week."_

"_I heard you did very well." He drank some coffee to hide whatever emotion might have been playing over his face at the time. Only the crack in his voice gave him away._

_Ruth shook her head. Her day before Harry's board of enquiry had been plaguing her ever since. "I think they knew I was having them on. When I said we were nothing more than colleagues, I mean. They must have known otherwise." She looked at the table, blinking away tears that had inexplicably sprung up behind her eyes and not wanting him to see her irrational embarrassment at admitting there was something between them._

_It was only the touch of Harry's hand that bought her back. "I'm just glad there is an 'otherwise'," he said gently. "Now, let me tell you a bit about this company…"_

Over the course of half an hour, he had told her a bit about what he had been up to for the past couple of months. Ruth still didn't know the whole story, but she had been able to piece together enough that it mostly made sense: years ago, it seemed, Harry had been involved in something. She didn't know what, but it didn't take a genius to know that it was something big, something the government would most likely rather forget. Harry had said that whatever it was had come back to bite him in the arse in a rather stylish manner.

"_I'm not getting prosecuted for treason," he said. "But in exchange there's something the board have asked me to do for them. And that's where you come in." _

_It was obvious that underneath his casual, business-like exterior, he was really anything but calm inside. For the first time since receiving his phone call a couple of days ago, Ruth began to worry._

It turned out that Harry had spent the vast majority of his suspension cultivating a contact at an aerospace company, with the full knowledge of his superiors – the people who supposedly wanted him to hang. He had been putting together a plan to do… something. Ruth had heard enough to guess that the 'something' involved a weapon and that it dated back to Harry's time in Berlin (whether the weapon consisted of information or bombs, she wasn't sure). She also knew that the aerospace company were responsible for the creation of said weapon and, while Harry hadn't been explicit, she had guessed that the purpose of this whole exercise was to make the weapon go away.

Of course, in order to do that, they needed to bypass the security at the company's headquarters, hence her current occupation. Harry had acquired a man on the inside who had been able to get Ruth a temporary assignment as a translator and analyst, and she had then acquired two days away from the Grid by faking a 'personal crisis' before going to meet with Harry's contact and getting the access codes off him. Luckily, it had been Dimitri on the phone when she called into work. It made lying that much easier – he'd clearly known she'd been bullshitting him, but he'd also known that it wouldn't be wise to question it.

She'd have to remember to thank him. Profusely.

Ruth focused her attention on the computer in front of her and concentrated on pilfering the algorithms used to compute the passcodes for the high security wing of the facility - while trying to avoid detection.

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><p>Harry was having a rather more relaxed time of it, booking train tickets under an assumed name and making quiet calls to an old friend who owed him a favour. In his downtime, he allowed himself to dwell on the evening he'd spent with Ruth at <em>The Renegade and Alchemist,<em> wishing he hadn't had to drag business in to spoil their time together.

It had gone fairly well, though, or at least as well as he'd expected it to. She hadn't been enamoured by the lack of information he'd volunteered and was expectedly not especially thrilled at the thought of having to lie to MI-5 for him, but… she hadn't said no. He hadn't even needed to use half the arguments he'd had lined up to try and convince her.

_He finished laying out what he wanted her to do at TFM Systems, the aerospace firm he'd been busy infiltrating for the past two months. "Do you think you can do it?" _

_It was a question designed to deflect from what he was actually asking. They both knew that she could do it, that she would relatively easily be able to get the information he needed, but what he was really asking was 'will you? Will you do this for me without judgement, without question?'_

_Her answer had been surprisingly instant. "Yes, of course."_

"_Good. Thank you."_

"_Now what's this about a holiday?"_

He hadn't explained that bit to her yet. Truth be told, he was putting it off because that was the thing he was most worried about, both in terms of how it would play out practically and how Ruth would react to it. He was anticipating her disapproval already. It was the fact he couldn't quite tell how much she'd disapprove that kept him from divulging anything about it, beyond the basic fact he needed her to go abroad with him.

"_If you won't tell me why we're going, can you at least tell me where?"_

_He shook his head. "No. I'm sorry."_

"_It's somewhere in Europe, though." It wasn't a question._

_He supposed he owed her that much. "Yes. It is."_

_He wondered if she was thinking about the Grand Tour, or maybe her years in exile. He was certainly thinking about them both. He tried not to wonder how this particular trip would affect their relationship, but failed. It must have shown on his face._

"_Harry?" She sounded concerned and he felt guilty because of it. She shouldn't be concerned for him, not really, not with what he was asking her to do. He was effectively asking her to risk her life – again._

_And yet he didn't want to fight her compassion and the need he felt for her. He took her hand and tugged. "Come and sit by me."_

_She did. He didn't let go of her hand. He told himself he never would again._

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><p><strong>Thanks for reading :)<strong>


	3. Chapter 3

**Thanks for all the lovely reviews on the last chapter. You all made me feel much better about my nonsensical ramblings. Speaking of which, here's some more! Hope it makes sense :) Oh, and there are minor spoilers for S10 in the form of one of the characters mentioned in the press release. **

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><p><strong>Chapter Three - The Best Laid Plans<strong>

_Two days later…_

The Grid was quiet when she arrived back from her two days at TFM Systems – her 'personal crisis' as it was officially known. Ruth was glad of the time to collect her thoughts before she inevitably got a bollocking from Erin, the new section chief, when she made her next request. A weeks' holiday, Harry had said. She was supposed to get herself a week off, effectively immediately, so they could carry out the next phase of The Plan.

She sat at her desk and filled in the holiday request form, her heart thumping loudly. Oddly, this was the part she was most nervous about. It was the point when it would be so easy for everything to fall to pieces, despite Harry's repeated assurances that she'd be fine.

They'd had a brief phone conversation last night, which had largely consisted of her asking him what was going on and him refusing to answer in a satisfactory manner. She had been so frustrated, she'd almost told him to forget the whole thing, but the note of panic in his voice when she'd let her anger show had convinced her to keep going, if for no other reason than she was curious. Plus, she'd already broken the rules. Why not go all the way?

"Hey, Ruth."

The voice startled her and she jumped, looking up to find Dimitri standing by her desk, clutching an armful of papers and smiling at her.

"Hi," she said, hoping he wouldn't look down and see her holiday request form.

"Everything okay?" His tone was casual, but his eyes said _I know you're up to something._

She was saved from having to answer when Erin breezed onto the Grid in a waft of perfume and shiny hair. Ruth swallowed heavily and decided she might as well get it over with. She stood up, clutching her form. "Hold that thought," she said to Dimitri as she dashed passed him and followed Erin into the meeting room.

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><p>Harry sat in his living room with the BBC Breakfast news on low in the background, his eyes resting on the clock in the corner of the screen. By his reckoning, Ruth would be in work by now, probably either in the middle of bargaining with Erin or steeling herself up for it. He felt guilty at asking her to lie, especially when he'd given her so little information to go on, but he told himself it was a necessary evil.<p>

Except that it wasn't really, was it? He knew full well that he could have kept Ruth out of this whole thing if he'd wanted to. It was just the curious, demanding part of him that had pushed him to call her in the first place, wanting to see what she would do, to see if there was still any chance left for them. The way things had played out so far had certainly given him hope. Just the thought of it made him smile, but the thought of what they would be doing in a couple of days' time wiped the smile off his face in an instant.

He wondered how long it would be before she called him a bastard again. He was fairly certain that she would at some point – and probably within the next few days. He just needed to be careful, so they could move past it once it was all over.

He knew he could be a bastard sometimes, but old habits died hard.

The ringing of his phone caught his attention and he welcomed the distraction from his mounting guilt.

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><p>"You want a week off?" Erin was holding the form and sounding as though a holiday was an alien concept to her. It probably was.<p>

And, until a few days ago, it had been to Ruth as well. "Er, yes, please," she said, hovering by the door and wishing her recently acquired boss would hurry up and get the shouting out of the way.

To her surprise, Erin softened slightly. "Is this to do with the 'personal crisis'? Dimitri said something was going on."

Well. She might as well run with it if it was being offered to her on a plate. "Yes, it is." Her nerves at being found out and the stress that had become a constant fixture in her life meant that she didn't have to act the worry she was hoping to portray.

"Anything I can help with?" Erin sounded as though she was really hoping Ruth would say 'no'.

She was in luck. "No, no, not really. I just… need a bit of time to… you know. Thanks, though."

Erin nodded distractedly and then signed the form, passing it back to Ruth without even the slightest hint of suspicion on her face. "Well, then. You going away for a few days, or..?"

"Haven't decided yet. I might see if there are any last minute deals to somewhere warm."

Apparently that was the limit of Erin's small talk capabilities because she dismissed Ruth with a wave of her hand and went back to the stack of paper that was teetering on the edge of the desk, her mind clearly already elsewhere.

"Thank you." Ruth left the room before her boss could change her mind.

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><p>It was the DG on the phone, calling to check that Harry was actually following orders and not just sitting at home on his arse drinking whisky and watching daytime telly. "Could get a bit tense if nothing happens soon, Harry."<p>

Harry bit his tongue to stop himself unleashing a barrage of abuse at the man. No matter how tempting the thought of it might be, it wouldn't be wise. It would all be so much worse – for everyone – if he started acting up… again. "Don't worry, sir, it's all in hand."

"So we can expect some progress… when, exactly?"

"I'm leaving tomorrow to take care of our foreign engagement."

"And you're taking Ms Evershed with you?"

"Mm." He didn't think it would be wise to say too much on that front.

The DG sighed. "It's just as well this conversation is off the record, or I imagine that would prove to be a rather juicy titbit for your enquiry."

"She's providing professional assistance."

The deafening silence suggested that the DG wasn't totally buying it, but that he wasn't going to push it. "Just get the job done, Harry," he said eventually, then hung up before Harry could respond.

"Cock," he said, as he threw the phone onto the sofa cushion beside him. He turned his attention back to the BBC news clock and wondered how long it would be before Ruth called.

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><p>Getting herself a week off work had proved easier than she'd been anticipating, but there was still one thing Ruth needed to do before she left.<p>

She found Dimitri in the little kitchen just off the Grid, making a cup of tea. He turned when he heard her footsteps. "Want one?" he asked.

If anything could break the ice on an awkward conversation, it was a nice cup of tea. "Yes, please."

He opened the cupboard and pulled out another mug, clanking it onto the work surface and putting a teabag in it. "Everything go okay with Erin?"

"Yes. Surprisingly."

"Expecting a bit of a fight?" The hopeful look on Dimitri's face suggested he wouldn't be entirely averse to a catfight on the Grid.

Ruth laughed and shoved him lightly in the shoulder. "Something like that, yeah."

He grinned and passed her the mug of tea. "You going to tell me what's going on then, or is it top secret?"

She nodded and took a sip of tea, giving herself time to think. "I need you to do something for me."

She quickly outlined what she wanted him to do, standing in the doorway of the little kitchen and keeping a look out so they wouldn't be surprised by anyone else's sudden presence. Dimitri listened intently, appearing not to find it odd that his colleague was asking him to make it look as though she had gone on an innocent package holiday when in fact, she was going off the radar.

"I'm going to book something tomorrow," she told him in hushed tones. "I just… need you to make it look like I've got on the plane and checked into the hotel at the other end."

"Where are you actually going?" He sounded apprehensive, but at least it wasn't an outright 'no'.

She shrugged. "I'm not sure yet."

"Is this something to do with Harry?"

She didn't answer. She didn't need to. She just drained her mug and rinsed it out with warm water, setting it to drain on the little rack next to the sink.

"Is he in trouble?" Dimitri moved closer, standing at her shoulder and looking at her with concern. "Are _you _in trouble?"

She answered him honestly. "I really don't know. You don't have to do this, not if you don't want to. I shouldn't even be asking, I know, but –"

"Ruth," he cut her off. "You wouldn't ask if it wasn't important. Of course I will."

"You could get into trouble if you get caught."

"Yeah, but you won't let me get into trouble, will you?" He bumped his shoulder against hers. "Anyway, I don't plan on getting caught. Just look after yourself, yeah? And Harry."

"I want to bloody punch Harry right now."

He laughed. "In that case, can you wait until you get back? I'd like to see that."

Suddenly overcome with a wash of affection for him, Ruth turned and put her arms around him, pulling him into a hug. He returned the embrace, holding her tightly and pressing his mouth to her ear. "You have my word," he said.

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><p><strong>Thank you for reading!<strong>

**Next time, Harry and Ruth take a little trip, whilst I frantically scrabble around for a way to sort out the plot. Hurrah!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: I don't own Spooks, or the Eurostar, or the Paris Metro, or Le Pataques or anything else you might recognise in here. The only thing I own are the plot holes.**

**Thank you to everyone for reading and reviewing. You never fail to make me grin like an idiot :) **

**Please forgive the immense liberties I've taken in this chapter with regards to: the European rail network; spycraft; plot. If you could all pretend that the gaping plot holes aren't there, that would be lovely. Thanks. I'm honestly in such a mess with this that I should probably just ditch the whole thing and yet… I'm still typing. Oh dear.**

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><p><strong>Chapter Four - Gare du Nord<strong>

They met early in the morning at St Pancras International, ready to get the 8:02 Eurostar to Paris.

Ruth arrived with her small suitcase to find Harry waiting for her outside Pret A Manger with a similar bag and a cardboard holder containing two cups of tea. He smiled at her when he saw her, which she had been expecting, but the kiss on the cheek when she drew level with him she definitely hadn't anticipated.

"Thanks for coming," he said, pulling back to look at her.

It only took her a moment to twig that he was enacting some kind of legend and so she tamped down all her natural flitty reactions to his lips against her skin and instead smiled back at him, reaching out to take one of the cups on his tray. "Of course," she said, taking a gulp of the tea to dampen her suddenly dry mouth.

"Have any problems getting here?"

She knew what he was really asking. _Was anyone suspicious about you wanting a holiday out of the blue?_ The only contact she'd had with him since leaving the Grid yesterday had been in the form of a quick call to say she'd left, followed later by a text message from him, telling her a time and a place to meet him. "No. Everything's taken care of."

Harry's meeting time had been earlier than she'd been anticipating and so she'd booked herself a package holiday the afternoon before, thinking it would look a bit odd if she did it at 4am on the day she was supposed to leave. Then she'd gone shopping, taking advantage of evening opening hours to pick up a few things before surreptitiously 'bumping into' Dimitri in Debenhams to give him the necessary details. She was confident he'd handle things for her, but she'd still been up before dawn to make sure everything was ready.

"Good," Harry said, clearly itching to know exactly what had happened but not wanting to risk it just yet.

She looked at her watch. "Do we need to..?"

"Mm, yes. I suppose we should make our way down. I have the passports, by the way."

"Right."

He stepped in front of her and then took a step forward, backing her into the wall behind her. Ruth held her tea tightly and tried not to look too surprised. "Here," Harry said, juggling the cardboard tray with one hand and pulling something out of his pocket with the other.

He handed her a ring and she realised that he was wearing a similar one on his left hand. She wished they'd had chance to discuss their legends before now. Then she might at least have been prepared. Ruth put the ring on and then looked up at Harry. "We're married, then?"

His response was to lean down and kiss her quickly before turning to grasp his suitcase and saying, "Come on, we need to go."

She couldn't decide whether she wanted to kill him… or kiss him again.

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><p>They made it to Paris without incident – or rather, Mr and Mrs Vincent did. Then, somewhere in the melee of the Gare du Nord, Mr and Mrs Vincent became David Jones and Laura Casano. Still married, but 'rather more modern' about it, according to Harry. Over coffee at the Paris station, he told Ruth that they were on a 'European tour', seeing the sights on the cheap and taking advantage of the EuroCity network.<p>

It was when they were on the Paris Metro, heading to the Gare de Bercy that Ruth figured out where they were going. She kept it to herself, wanting to see how long Harry would be able to keep up appearances before he finally cracked and told her. She had to get her fun from somewhere, after all.

In truth, she was nervous. She was worried by the lack of information and the informality of the whole thing, the lack of back up if anything went wrong and the sense that, somehow, this was bigger than either of them could deal with. She wanted to tell Harry about her worries, but held back. Not because they were in public and someone might overhear that something dodgy was going on, but because – and it hurt her to even think it – she wasn't sure exactly how much she should trust him at this point in time. He'd clearly got himself wrapped up in something and, while she wanted to give him complete benefit of the doubt, she knew full well that he wasn't a saint. It was an unspoken fact that there were things in his past that were best left unmentioned. The thought of one of them reappearing was hardly something to reassure.

She clung tightly to the train's handrail and tried not to dwell on it too much.

* * *

><p>Harry took Ruth's hand as they left the Metro, partly to keep up appearances but mostly because he was enjoying the excuse to do so. Her palm felt clammy against his. He wondered if that was due to the heat of the Metro or her state of mind.<p>

"Do you want to get something to eat?" he said, focusing on something he had some control over instead of focusing on the fact Ruth's demeanour had altered somewhat ever since arriving in Paris. Then again, they'd been up for ages and it was getting towards lunchtime. Food would surely help. "We have a couple of hours before the next train."

"Yes, all right."

He took her a short way along the Boulevard de Bercy until they reached Le Pataques, a restaurant that seemed to be doing a good midday trade. It was large enough to be anonymous, but small enough that they'd be able to easily spot anyone who might be watching them. Harry let Ruth order their food in perfect French while he scanned the room, still finding it a little hard to believe that they'd got this far so easily, despite the reassurances from the DG that they'd have safe passage out of the UK.

Certain that they weren't being watched or tailed, he turned his attention back to his lunch companion, watching her fiddle with her water glass and unable to resist a smile at the sight of the ring on her finger. "I've missed this," he said, his brain not having sufficient time to stop his mouth from uttering the words.

"Missed what?" Ruth asked, regarding him a little warily.

Yes, he decided, her patience with his whole charade was starting to wear thin. But that could wait for now. He decided he had nothing to lose; a bit of flirting wouldn't hurt. "Spending time with you."

She softened and gave him a shy smile. "Well, we're here now," she said, addressing the comment to her napkin. "It seems to be becoming a regular thing."

"Ah yes, our little sojourn to the pub last week." He'd thought about it every day since, sitting across the table from her in the bar, talking intently, telling her he'd missed her, hearing her say she'd missed him too… holding her hand after asking her to sit next to him.

"If we do it much more, it could be habit forming."

"Would that be so bad?" He had to admit, he was nervous she might say _yes._

She straightened and looked him in the eye. "I guess that depends," she said.

"On what?"

"On what happens in Bologna."

Suddenly, flirting was the last thing on his mind.

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><p><strong>Thanks for reading :)<strong>

**Hopefully the 'proper' plot will get going soon so it will stop jumping around all over the place… well, maybe. Here's hoping! (I guess this is why these 'plan' things were invented, right?)**


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: still applies.**

**Thank you all so, so, **_**so**_** much for being lovely about the last chapter. If I knew who you really were I'd invite you all round for wine.**

**A mostly fluffy chapter this time, because fluff is important. (And I'm pretty sure the Paris-Bologna train only runs at night, but artistic license and all that…) Hope you enjoy!**

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><p><strong>Chapter Five - Plans into Motion<strong>

"Bologna," Harry repeated, wondering how she knew. He hadn't said anything. He'd been intending to tell her on the train.

But then he knew that he should never underestimate Ruth Evershed. He'd been an idiot to even try in the first place.

"Mm," she said. "Why, exactly, are we going there?"

There was a pause when the waiter reappeared with their lunch, but when he had gone, Ruth didn't pick up her fork and start eating. Instead she sat and stared at him, challenging him to answer. "How do you even know we're going there?" he said, not yet ready to answer her question. He was fairly certain she'd be on the next Eurostar back to London if he answered her truthfully… but maybe that would be underestimating her again.

Ruth shrugged. "Laura Casano?" she said, referring to the pseudonym he'd given her for the trip. "Clearly Italian in there somewhere. Plus this is all about something you did in Berlin, right?"

"Right," he agreed hesitantly, not completely sure how she'd got from Germany to Italy without as much as a hint from him.

"So that suggests something to do with the Cold War and communism. And Bologna has long been associated with Italian leftist politics, so…" She lifted one shoulder as if to say _it's obvious_ and then took a sip of her water. "Plus it's where the train goes from le Gare de Bercy. It wasn't that hard to figure out."

He had to stop himself from saying right there and then _I bloody love you_. Instead he said, "Can't get anything past you, can I?" He said it with affection, enjoying the colour that came to her cheeks as a result.

"Not much," she muttered, then turned her attention to her lunch, the conversation clearly closed – for now.

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><p>She wished he wasn't being so charming. It was so much easier to be suspicious of him when he was being annoying and superior. Instead she found herself falling into the lull of their married legend and the temptation to just let him sweep her along for whatever it was he had planned. It was only her long years of training and her inability to ever switch off completely that meant she was able to compartmentalise: while one part of her was occupied trying not to act like a teenager with a crush, another part was quietly computing everything she knew about the situation and refusing to let her let him get away with anything.<p>

Lunch was over far too quickly, taken up with inane conversation about the galleries of Paris to make it seem as though they really were here to see the sights - and trying each other's food, to add to the illusion that they really were a couple. Ruth decided not to think too hard about how little effort it took to pretend and instead told herself that this was work, an assignment. If she hadn't killed Harry for being a git by the time they made it home (and she had to assume that they _would_ make it home, not having any better information to go on), then she could start to think in a less professional manner. There were so many conversations she wanted to have with him, but this was not the time.

Although, she mused, the train to Bologna took about eleven hours: maybe they would have enough privacy to talk about some of the more pressing matters they needed to sort out.

She drained her water glass as Harry paid the bill in used euro notes, noting that he had come prepared. She wasn't surprised. She'd come prepared, too. In her handbag, she had two thousand euros in cash and she'd stuck some more into her suitcase. Ever since spending those years in exile, she'd always kept a few currencies to hand. Once it had been about survival. Now it was habit.

"Shall we?" Harry said, standing up and holding his hand out to her.

Ruth nodded and took his hand, letting him pull her up and resisting the habitual urge to pull away from him once she was standing.

They walked the short distance back to the railway station, dragging their bags along with them. As they walked, Harry bent his head down to hers and murmured in her ear. "So where did you tell Dimitri you were going?"

The unexpected question threw her a little and it took her a moment to realise he was asking about her slightly dodgy plan to avoid work for the week. "How do you know I told Dimitri? How do you know I even told anyone?"

He shrugged. "It helps to have someone on side."

She couldn't be bothered to argue the point, gave in and told him. "I said I was going to Halkidiki."

"Greece? Nice."

"I know. An all-inclusive package and golden sands. I'm actually quite jealous of my fake self." Ruth glanced at her watch, currently set to Paris time. "She'll be sitting on the beach with a cocktail right now."

She wasn't joking, but Harry laughed. "Don't worry, Ruth," he said. "I promise, when this is all over, I'll take you on holiday to Greece."

"I'll hold you to that," she found herself saying and then immediately regretted it. Bloody man. But then their current occupation was not what one would call a relaxing break. She had no doubt that he'd owe her a holiday before too long. Maybe she _should_ hold him to it.

Harry turned suddenly wistful as they reached le Gare de Bercy. He stopped and turned, looking out at the boulevard they had just walked along. "I always thought we'd have more time here," he said.

She didn't answer at first. She could guess what he meant. Paris. His description, years ago, of the Grand Tour. It would be cruel to dismiss that out of hand. She squeezed his hand. "There's always next time."

She wasn't even surprised by the fact she meant it. Oh God.

* * *

><p>Harry was bored on the train within half an hour and wondered for the millionth time whether he should've just taken the risk and booked them plane tickets to fly to Italy, before telling himself that all the security would've been too risky and they would never have made it out of Gatwick. Plus, he didn't trust those volcanoes. It seemed to be ash clouds and grounded flights left, right and centre these days. And at least the train was relatively quiet, so he and Ruth had a section of the carriage to themselves.<p>

He could sense the conflict within her as she sat opposite him and he knew she had to be biting her tongue to avoid demanding an explanation of him where other people might hear. He'd tell her before long. For now, he was content just to run over his plans for the next couple of days in his head and to replay Ruth's words as they stood outside the train station. _There's always next time._

He hoped she was right and that there would be a next time involving them in Paris, but he knew she was liable to change her mind again in an instant, either because of something he did or some random thought that occurred to her and made her pull back. It was that tendency of hers that sometimes made him wish that he could stop loving her because it could never just be easy. Every time he found himself thinking that, however, another thought would enter his head a split second later: he couldn't possibly be easy to love, either. And yet they were still both here, doing mad things for each other. Surely neither of them would bother if it wasn't worth it.

It would just be nice to have a bit more action rather than leaving everything unsaid.

As he watched the city outside the train gradually turn to suburbs and then countryside as they sped south, Harry thought about the enquiry that was currently being held in his honour back in London. No doubt it was still going on; Ruth had told him when they'd met up at the pub that she'd only recently testified.

And how he wished he could've been a fly on _that_ wall. If it had been anything like the sessions he had spent in front of the board, she would've been plotting the painful downfall of the members within five minutes.

The train rumbled on through France, edging ever closer to their destination and the rather scary point in the near future when Harry would inevitably have to come clean.

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><p><strong>Thanks for reading! Next time, they might actually make it to Bologna. Woo.<strong>


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: still applies.**

**Sorry this has taken so long! I got busy and then I got stuck. Anyway. Thanks for all the lovely reviews on the last chapter! You all frequently make my day. And here's another chapter, mostly about beds and talking (and some made-up nonsense about what Ruth might have got up to in exile, because I can't remember if they ever said that much about it on the show – apologies if I've just arsed up whole seasons' worth of canon!). Hope you enjoy!**

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><p><strong>Chapter Six - Bedfellows<strong>

After darkness had begun to fall and they had eaten some dodgy sandwiches from the buffet car, Harry and Ruth found themselves in one of the sleeper train's cabins.

There were two very narrow beds with barely a foot of space between them, and a cabinet so small it couldn't hold more than a lamp and an alarm clock. No distractions or anywhere to hide.

Which is how they came to find themselves sitting on the beds in a vaguely embarrassed silence, neither of them wanting to sleep but wondering if they should pretend to just so they wouldn't have to deal with the situation. The noise and movement of the train, however, were making it clear that even pretending to sleep wasn't going to happen.

Resigned to the reigning awkwardness, Ruth lay down on her bunk and faced Harry, watching as he rifled through his bag slowly, clearly stalling for time. Eventually, he looked up and smiled at her, dumping his bag next to hers on the floor. "Well," he said. "This is cosy."

Ruth glanced at her watch. "Only six and a half hours until we're there."

The main light in the cabin was off and so their only illumination came from the lamp on the table. At another time, it could have been romantic. As it was, it was verging on uncomfortable. Ruth found herself talking to fill the silence before she could think about what she was saying. "I've been on this train before."

Harry seemed surprised. "Really?"

"Mm. When I had to go into exile. I didn't know what to do or where to go, so I bought a Eurail pass and went everywhere. I thought that if I just kept moving, I could pretend the whole thing had never happened." She didn't know why she was telling him, but she reasoned that it was long past the point where they should have had this conversation and anyway, everything was so messed up at the moment that adding a bit more confusion and drama on top of it wasn't going to make much difference.

Harry was watching her with an interested look on his face, clearly willing to listen but not wanting to push her into talking (how could he really, when he wasn't exactly being forthcoming about current happenings). Ruth looked at the alarm clock on the table instead of at him. It was easier. The alarm clock didn't have eyes that made her want to cry.

"I ended up in Spain, eventually. Somewhere near Barcelona. I taught English for a bit to earn some money, helped some postgrad students with their essays."

"Aren't there rules against helping them with that sort of thing?"

She shrugged as best she could while lying down. "That didn't really seem to matter at the time. Anyway, they were young and they were fun and that was what I needed. They were a good distraction for a while. I went travelling with them." She didn't have to look at Harry to know he'd be shocked at that one. "Not for very long. By the time we got to Cyprus, I started to feel that if I couldn't live _my _life, then I at least had to try and live _a_ life, if only because I was never going to get any better at pretending everything was fine unless I gave it a chance to be fine. So when they left Cyprus, I stayed. And it got easier to pretend, after a while. They say that about agents in deep cover, don't they? That it becomes second nature to be someone you're not. I got so good at it that there were some days I didn't even think about how I'd give it all up in an instant just to come home and have everything back the way it was. And then of course, when it actually happened I felt so guilty at the… I don't know… the _relief. _It hardly even feels real now. This does, though. This definitely feels real."

She fell silent then and they lay in the dim light to the soundtrack of the train on the tracks and two rapidly beating hearts going into overdrive.

"And I've been talking far too much so I'm going to shut up now."

Ruth closed her eyes and waited for Harry to do something – anything, even just turning out the light and putting an end to things. After a moment, she felt his hand on her cheek, his fingers running lightly over the skin just beneath her eye. She looked at him. He gave her a smile and moved his hand further down, until he found her own hand and wrapped it in his, hardly even having to stretch to reach her in the confined space of the cabin. She smiled back and felt strangely at peace, given the oddness of travelling through the night on a mystery assignment.

Maybe she should've gone on a black op with Harry long ago.

* * *

><p>By the time they reached Bologna, it was the small hours of the morning and Harry was exhausted. He could feel his body craving sleep as they got off the train and made their way out onto Viale Angelo Masini, one of the main roads. <em>You're not young any more,<em> he told himself, knowing he shouldn't be surprised at his tiredness but all the same feeling frustrated that he couldn't cope as well as he had once done with this sort of travelling.

Beside him, Ruth seemed to be in slightly better shape, but he imagined that was mostly because she was still wired up: she'd managed to read an entire novel on the train. Still, at least they didn't have far to go now and once they were safely at their destination, they could go to bed and ignore the world for a while.

Harry had briefly contemplated walking to the place they were staying; it wasn't too far from the station. He had decided, though, that it would look slightly odd for two tourists arriving on a train in the middle of the night to plunge off into the darkness. Better to keep to the expected routes and pay a visit to the taxi rank. They found a cab without too much trouble and Harry gave the driver the name of the road they needed.

It was a short drive and they stayed on the main road most of the way. He was aware of Ruth mentally making notes of their location and the route they took, no doubt memorising how to get back to the railway station in case they needed to do so in a hurry. He was doing the same thing, despite the fact he'd been to the city before.

The taxi stopped less than five minutes later outside a small guest house. Harry paid the driver, thanked him in his best Italian and then took Ruth's arm to keep her from moving until the taxi had disappeared from sight.

"Not here," he said.

She raised an eyebrow but didn't seem surprised that he'd given the taxi driver a fake address. She just sighed, picked up her suitcase and followed him as he led her down a small throughway to the side of the guest house. They walked for a couple of hundred metres and then made a left turn by a small, pretty courtyard. Another fifty metres and they had reached their destination.

The building they stood in front of could charitably have been called a hostel. More realistically, it was something of a charming dump. Harry rang the bell and less than a minute later, the door opened. The woman who answered it took a long look at him. "Hello," she said, in English, "again. It has been a long time."

"Yes." Harry smiled and then waited.

The woman shook her head as if to say _what the hell have you gone and done now_, and then pulled a key from one of her pockets, handing it over to him. "Second floor," she said, holding the door for them to enter and then disappearing off down a dark, narrow corridor as soon as she had shut it behind them.

"Second floor then," Harry said. "Do you want me to take your suitcase?"

"No, it's fine." Ruth was peering along the hallway the woman had just disappeared down. "You know her, Harry?"

"Very vaguely. From a long time ago."

She nodded. Harry could practically see her filing away the information for future reference – or, more likely, interrogation.

"Come on," he said, and started trudging up the staircase that ran along one plastered, peeling wall. The whole building smelled vaguely of damp and clearly hadn't been decorated since he had last been a visitor in Bologna.

They followed the stairs to the second floor and located the room number that corresponded with the faded _2_ written on the key fob. He opened the door and they went inside.

The room was shabby but clean, with a chest of drawers, an old dining chair in one corner and a bed that was bigger than a single but wasn't quite big enough to be a double. Harry sat down on it, enjoying the squashy feel of the mattress after the godawful 'beds' on the train. He wondered if they were going to have an argument over sharing the bed, but Ruth didn't seem in the mood for talking. She just disappeared into the tiny bathroom attached to the room, reappeared five minutes later with her face scrubbed and breath minty fresh, then took off her shoes and lay down next to where Harry had positioned himself while he waited for her.

He found his wash bag and went into the bathroom to perform his own evening routine, and when he got back, Ruth was asleep.

He wondered if he should wake her and suggest that she change into pyjamas, but he didn't have the heart. Besides, if everything went unexpectedly tits up and they had to leave at short notice, it would be much faster if they weren't faffing about with night clothes. He took off his own shoes and jacket, then carefully extracted the covers from beneath Ruth, steadying her with one hand as he tried not to wake her. Then he lay down beside her, pulled the covers over them both and reached up to switch off the light. He didn't even have time to appreciate the warmth of her next to him in the cool room; he was asleep within seconds.

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><p><strong>Thanks for reading! <strong>


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer still applies and will do for all eternity, most likely.**

**Thanks once again for all the lovely comments and for taking the time to read and review etc! Well, I was going to do some proper plotty stuff in this chapter, but it ended up as being mostly fluffy instead. Plot will happen next time, I promise (probably). Hope you like it, anyway!**

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><p><strong>Chapter Seven - Nearing the Moment<strong>

Ruth woke first as the sunlight that streamed through the window made its way across the floor and then began to creep over the bed, shining in her eyes and disturbing her. There wasn't much warmth in the sunlight, but the combination of it, the duvet on top of her and Harry behind her kept her feeling relaxed and unwilling to move for at least a little while longer.

But speaking of which – Harry seemed to still be sleeping soundly, light puffs of air escaping from his lips as he breathed in and out. Ruth rolled onto her back to find him on his side, facing her, his face slack with sleep. He was so close to her that she could feel the warmth of his body against her side. She didn't read anything into it beyond the fact that the bed was so small there was nowhere else for him to go. What she did read a little bit of something into, however, was the feel of his hand deliberately curved against her hip.

She wondered if she should move it, in case he woke up and it provoked more awkwardness. She wondered if she should leave it for the same reason. Caught in indecision, she shut her eyes again and willed herself to go back to sleep, even though she knew she wouldn't be able to.

Today was the day she planned to force Harry to tell her what was going on, but it was hard to summon up the will to interrogate him when she was currently feeling so relaxed in his presence. She was torn between wanting to just let it go, put everything off a little while longer and just enjoy their bizarre trip away, and being immensely curious – and suspicious – about the whole thing. The fact that she couldn't stop thinking about it suggested to her that the suspicious side of her was winning out.

Ruth couldn't help but be nervous about whatever it was Harry might tell her. She knew he wasn't an angel and that he'd done some dodgy things in his time. But, as far as she knew, whatever he'd done had always been for the good of the country. She thought she could make her peace with pretty much anything as long as he'd done what he had for the right reasons.

It was the tiny, tiny part of her that thought he might, at some point, have ignored the good of the country and done something truly awful that worried her. The mess with Albany hadn't helped. The whole thing had made her simultaneously want to be closer to him and, as she'd told Dimitri, to bloody punch him to make him see sense.

But she couldn't think about the Albany debacle right now. This was clearly about something else – she still suspected it had something to do with a weapon created by TFM Systems - and she was never going to be able to focus on it properly while she was lying in bed next to Harry.

Decision (reluctantly) made, she shuffled to the edge of the bed and then stood up, heading towards the little bathroom with the intent of having an invigorating shower in the hope it might make her see sense, and enable her to get on with the job – whatever it might be.

After all, she was nothing if not a professional.

* * *

><p>Harry woke to an empty bed and the sound of running water coming from the bathroom. He still felt tired from the long day before and late night following it, but he could feel his mind beginning to wake up and sharpen, ready for whatever lay ahead.<p>

He lay there, content to keep life on hold for just a few more minutes. Part of him was glad that Ruth was already up when he woke; the potential for disastrously, irreparably awkward bed-related moments had been just that little bit too high for comfort. And yet another part of him couldn't help but wonder how events might have played out if they'd woken at the same time.

Probably not as he might have hoped.

He craned his neck to see under the bottom of the curtains that covered the window to the side of the bed, noting the sunlight and relatively clear skies above the tops of the building. It all looked very romantic and he was struck with the sudden urge to bugger the whole purpose for being here, sever all contact with the service and just spend some time being happy.

The words Ruth had said to him at The Renegade and Alchemist pub came back to him. She'd told him that she'd been worried that his enquiry board would know she was lying to them when she'd said there was nothing between the two of them – that they must've been able to tell otherwise. _I'm just glad there is an 'otherwise'_, he'd replied. Now, even despite the gravity of his current occupation, he couldn't stop himself dwelling on 'otherwise' and wondering how amenable Ruth might be to exploring it a little bit.

After all, he thought, they were in a romantic city, far from home, out of contact with everyone back in the UK… it was so tempting. _Stop it_, Harry told himself. _This isn't the time._

He was about to berate himself further, but then the bathroom door opened and Ruth walked out, dressed in jeans and a light jumper. Her hair was wet and pushed back from her face. The whole thing was so ordinary and lovely that he could almost believe they did this every day.

She turned and caught him staring. "Morning," she said, a slight question in her voice.

He smiled and heaved himself out of bed, only just remembering that he had gone to sleep in his travel clothes. They felt grimy and heavy with sleep and he could hardly wait to get out of them. "Hi," he replied. "Been up long?"

Ruth shrugged. "Not really." She ran a comb through her wet hair and then fixed him with a gaze. "Harry."

He knew what she was going to say before she said it. "You don't have to ask," he said. "I promise I'll tell you everything today." He could already feel the adrenaline starting to build. "Let me have a shower first, though, yes? Then we'll have some breakfast and then… you can ask me whatever you like."

She looked a little surprised that he'd given in so easily; she'd clearly been prepared for a fight. "Okay."

Deciding to make his escape before she could ambush him further when he was still feeling slightly foggy with sleep, Harry leaned over and impulsively planted a kiss on her forehead before heading into the bathroom with the gait of a man trying to act casual when he was clearly anything but.

-x-

He stayed in the bathroom longer than he probably should have done, taking his time over showering under the weak spray of water and then shaving exceedingly slowly, knowing he was stalling for time but not really knowing why. It would, of course, be infinitely better in the long run to just seize the moment and go out to face the music, but he was feeling reluctant. He didn't want the odd, comfortable bubble of time they were currently existing in to end.

Eventually, he felt he had steeled himself enough and that if he wasted any more time, Ruth might start to judge him, so Harry unlocked the door and went back into the main room. Ruth was sitting on the dining chair that made up the 'seating area', looking out of the window at the backstreets below.

"What do you want to do for breakfast?" he asked, feeling his stomach rumble at the thought of food that wasn't bought on a train and packaged in an airless plastic container.

She turned to him with a strange expression on her face. "Anything," she said, forcing a smile and standing up. "You choose."

"You okay?"

She nodded and looked as though she was just going to brush him off, but then she changed her mind. "I'm a bit nervous," she said, "about whatever it is you're going to tell me."

_You and me both_. Harry sighed and crossed the room until he stood in front of her, thoughts teeming at how unfair everything was. He took Ruth's hand, just has he had on the train the day before, and was glad that she didn't object. "I know," he said. "I was thinking earlier about I'd much rather just bugger the whole thing, take you and leave."

"What's stopping you?" She looked like she really wanted to know.

"Well, for one thing, I doubt the DG would be very happy about my blowing him off."

Ruth raised one eyebrow. "The DG knows what's going on? Well, I guess that explains why Erin was so accommodating when I asked her for time off."

"Mm, yes," Harry agreed. "I expect someone had a quiet word with her." Then, seeing the uncertainty spreading across her face, he decided to downplay things a little bit. "It'll all be fine," he said, trying to sound as if he genuinely meant it. He mostly succeeded. "We're just here to tidy up a loose end." Well, that much was true, anyway.

Ruth nodded. "Right. And what about TFM Systems?" she asked, referring to the company Harry had spent weeks infiltrating prior to sending her in to steal their security codes for reasons he had yet to let her in on, although he suspected she had already guessed at least part of it.

"That's the last thread that needs to be cut. When we get back home."

Her fingers flexed against his. The tension was obvious. "And then?"

"And then… well, I suppose that's up to you." He knew she'd be able to see in his face what he wanted.

"Maybe we could… sort something out." She looked up and held his gaze, want and hope clouded with the slightest bit of indecision mixed up in her expression.

Harry nodded. "That would be very nice." _As long as you're still talking to me,_ he thought.

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><p><strong>Next time, Harry does some explaining. Just as soon as I've decided what his explanation is going to be, of course. Thanks for reading! x<strong>


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